


Hubert's Diary

by Rainbow_Volcano



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bickering, Denial of Feelings, Diary/Journal, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rivalry, Threats, Very Secret Diary, i believe in the inherent eroticism of mutual loathing, look i don't have an excuse it's 2020, please enjoy this contrived trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27464779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_Volcano/pseuds/Rainbow_Volcano
Summary: Ferdinand stumbles across a curious book in Hubert's room, one that he is exceedingly protective of. So protective, that even Edelgard doesn't know the contents. What dastardly secrets could Hubert be keeping in that journal, and how could they be used against the empire? Ferdinand decides he must know, to protect his nation. However, the book isn't quite what he expected it to be
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 16
Kudos: 138





	1. Fingers Pressed in his Chest

**Author's Note:**

> If there was a "Least Likely to Keep a Diary" award, Hubert von Vestra would crush the competition. I know. But please just let me have this, okay?

Ferdinand walked down the 2nd floor dorm hallway and sighed. The afternoon sunlight was blinding from the hallway windows, and a stray cat had wandered in. He’d missed class that day, and needed to obtain lecture notes from someone else. He’d exhausted every other option, and was left with no choice: he’d have to get notes from Hubert.

He stopped in front of Hubert’s door. Even though he walked passed the room at least twice a day on the way to his own, he’d become used to ignoring it altogether.

Ferdinand wondered what sorts of horrors Hubert kept in his room. Did the inside look like a gothic, haunted mansion or more like a taboo witchcraft hut? Or something worse? Maybe it was barren, except for a single chair in the center, where he tortured captives.

“Do you think he sleeps in a coffin?” Bernadetta had supposed once during a meal. Ferdinand, Bernadetta, and Caspar looked two tables over and found Hubert and Edelgard deep in conversation and pouring over a notebook. Ferdinand hadn’t been sure if they were doing homework or plotting something.

“No way, the guy’s still human, you know?” Caspar had responded. “I bet he just sleeps in a regular bed.”

Hubert had looked up, making Bernadetta shriek and curl up in her seat. But Ferdinand stayed on Hubert’s gaze awhile, trying to determine if he’d overheard them. Hubert then sneered, then looked back to his notebook, which didn’t clear up anything.

“Vampires still look like humans. Maybe he’s half-vampire?” Bernadetta had offered. Caspar had laughed.

“Nah, Hubert’s not that scary. Right, Ferdinand?”

At the time, Ferdinand had agreed. Hubert was difficult to pin down, and he seemed to live in the macabre, but he was human like anyone else.

Now, standing at his door, about to undergo the mortifying ordeal of asking him for a favor, Ferdinand wasn’t so sure.

Maybe he could get his lecture notes from someone else. Hubert took the second best notes in the class, but he still had other classmates. Though, the best person other than Hubert or himself was Edelgard, and Ferdinand couldn’t stoop to admitting she’d been a better student than he was. Maybe he could try and decipher Petra’s notes, or sift through Dorothea’s doodles, or maybe he could take up the professor’s time?

Ferdinand sighed. There was no choice; he was going to have to enter Hubert’s room. He took a deep breath, and knocked.

Hubert answered swiftly, eyes widening upon seeing his visitor. “Ferdinand?”

“I loathe to disturb you, but…I was under the weather this morning, and was not able to attend the lecture. Do you think it possible that I could,” he braced himself, “borrow your notes?”

Hubert’s eyes widened again, and he blinked. Then he smirked. “The haughty Ferdinand von Aegir, stooping to me for a favor?”

Ferdinand grit his teeth. “Yes, I know. I do not like it any more than you do.”

Hubert cackled, and Ferdinand felt heat rise to his cheeks. Once this part was over, he’d have the notes and he wouldn’t need to speak to Hubert ever again. He just hoped he could live through it.

“Why me?” Hubert asked, crossing his arms. He was still blocking the doorway, so Ferdinand couldn’t see inside or force himself inside if he wanted to.

Ferdinand tensed, feeling more and more uncomfortable as the seconds went on. “Well, you see, other than myself, you, ah…take the best notes in the class.”

“A _compliment_? Are you certain you’re over your illness?”

Ferdinand sighed. “Please?”

Hubert stared at him a while longer, gaze scrutinizing. Finally, he relented. “Very well, come in,” he said, opening the door. Hubert turned and Ferdinand followed behind.

Astonishingly, the room was completely normal. The carpet was red, for their house, and there was a bed and a desk and several stacks of books. That was all. It looked exactly like every other room in the monastery.

“Huh, no coffin,” Ferdinand mused to himself. Maybe Caspar was right. Maybe Hubert was just a normal person with an abnormal aesthetic.

“Why would I have a coffin in my room?”

Ferdinand realized suddenly he’d said that aloud. “Uh, that is…nothing.” The temperature climbed the more he stayed in Hubert’s presence. The sooner he escaped, the better.

“My notebook’s on top of the desk,” Hubert explained, gesturing vaguely towards it. “It was a short lecture today, so I don’t imagine you’ll need to intrude for very long.” He went to his dresser and pulled out a tin of coffee. Normally, it would only be polite to offer a cup to your guest. Though Ferdinand supposed he did barge in abruptly. Besides, even if Hubert was decent enough to offer, Ferdinand wouldn’t accept.

Ferdinand saw two notebooks lying on the desk. One was a simple brown, undyed, and tied with a leather string. The other, however, was a deep forest green, and encrusted with small cuts of a black, glittering gem. A swirling vine pattern circled the edges, looping across both covers. The ornate binding was only outdone by its mysterious air.

“Which one?” Ferdinand asked. Hubert didn’t respond, so Ferdinand looked back to the notebooks. He assumed the plain one was Hubert’s class notebook. But the mysterious one called to him. He reached his fingers out towards it, brushing it, feeling the texture of the vines and the black gemstones. He opened the front cover.

“No!” Hubert cried. Ferdinand jumped. In an instant, Hubert snatched the book from Ferdinand’s grasp, letting the coffee spoon clatter to the floor.

Hubert clutched the book tight to his chest, squeezing it into his arms. Ferdinand stared at him. Hubert’s eyes were frantic, terrified. Ferdinand had never seen him so scared.

“I’m…sorry?” Ferdinand said.

Hubert coughed into his fist. “Wrong notebook. The brown one is for class.”

Curiosity piqued, Ferdinand tilted his head. “And what is that one for?”

“…Miscellaneous other things,” Hubert answered vaguely. Ferdinand crossed his arms.

“Other things? You cannot mean to tell me…” Hubert waited, breath in his throat. “That book is a journal of your secret schemes!”

Hubert sighed in what seemed suspiciously like relief. “Yes, secret schemes and plots. Most dastardly, villainous things. The contents would make you nauseous.”

“That sounds like a challenge!” Ferdinand lunged for the book. Hubert dodged frantically, narrowly avoiding Ferdinand’s hands.

“No!” he insisted. Hubert forced himself to relax. “No,” he said again, a bit more calmly. He coughed into his fist, attempting to regain his composure. “No need to see the pages.”

Ferdinand quirked an eyebrow. “You are awfully attached to that book.”

Hubert shrugged, hoping to seem disinterested. He refused to elaborate.

Ferdinand stared at him for a moment. Then he smirked triumphantly, pounding his fist into his palm. “I bet Edelgard can tell me what is inside!”

Hubert rolled his eyes. “Lady Edelgard does not know either.”

At that, Ferdinand stalled. His eyes widened as dread dripped into him. “You are keeping secrets from Edelgard?”

Hubert sighed. “It’s not like that.”

“How could you do such a thing?” he demanded. “Pages of underhanded lies that she does not know exist? What other sorts of things are you keeping from her? Just how many secrets do you have!?” Ferdinand had always assumed the two shared everything important with one another. But if Hubert was keeping plots from her, from the future emperor, the implications were unsettling. What kind of havoc would he wreak without Edelgard’s permission or knowledge? What would this do to the Empire?

“Do not begin jumping to conclusions,” Hubert said.

“I must tell her right away!” Ferdinand turned on his heel and dashed out the door.

“No, wait! Ferdinand!” Hubert raced after him, book still cradled in his arms.

* * *

Edelgard’s door was open, and she sat inside arranging a few carnations in a flower vase. She looked up at the commotion and was quite shocked to find Ferdinand and Hubert charging in.

“Can I help—”

“Hubert is keeping secrets from you!” Ferdinand shouted. “He has an entire book full of secrets!”

Hubert, a bit out of breath, kept his composure. “Forgive his rudeness at barging in, Lady Edelgard.”

Edelgard stood, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s going on?”

“I discovered a secret book Hubert has been keeping. It is full of schemes! He told me even _you_ are unaware of its contents. Edelgard, he is _lying_ to you!”

Edelgard quirked an eyebrow. “Do you have any proof?”

Too quick for Hubert to react, Ferdinand plucked the book from his arms. “Right here,” Ferdinand presented. Edelgard took the journal, inspecting the front and back covers. Hubert’s composure fizzled. He dare not snatch it from Edelgard’s hands.

“Please, Lady Edelgard, that book is of no concern. You need not regards its contents, I assure you emphatically.”

“If it is of no concern, then it should be safe to read,” she reasoned, opening the front cover.

“No!” Hubert screeched. Edelgard’s hand stalled. “Please, I beg of you. Do not read it.”

Edelgard caught his gaze, caught the intensity and fervor in his eyes. It was rare for Hubert to be so insistent.

Edelgard shrugged. “Very well,” she said, handing the book back to Hubert. Relief crashed over him, evident on every inch of his face.

“But Edelgard—!” Ferdinand began.

“Enough,” she said, holding up a gloved hand. “I trust Hubert. He is entitled to his privacy.” She brought her hand back down and turned her attention to Hubert. Her eyes softened a bit, as if wanting to affirm that he was alright. “Hubert, can you promise me that nothing in there is something I ought to know?”

“I swear it upon the Vestra name.” Swearing on your family’s name should never be taken lightly, Ferdinand knew. Hubert meant it. But if the book was full of contents that would make Ferdinand sick, surely they were something Edelgard ought to know? Was Hubert lying or not? Was he capable of lying to Edelgard? He had a whole book of secrets he kept from her, how different could lying to her face be?

“There you have it,” she confirmed, wrapping a bow on the conversation. “Now if the both of you troublemakers are quite done, I have some business to take care of.” She ushered them out, and closed the door behind them.

* * *

They stood in the hallway for a bit, uneasy. Ferdinand was frustrated by the whole situation. For one, for being lumped into the ‘troublemaker’ category at all, particularly by his greatest rival. Secondly, for being lumped into the category along with Hubert, his second greatest rival. And thirdly, for being all but dismissed out of hand despite having a legitimate concern for the Empire’s welfare.

“Satisfied?” Hubert sneered. Ferdinand looked up at him, meeting his piercing glare with a glare of his own.

“Forgive me for caring for the welfare of our nation. I did not realize that low bar was beyond your capabilities.”

Hubert took a step closer, crowding him, looming over him. His hair swallowed the afternoon sun, his exposed eye gleamed in it. Hubert breathed out slowly through his nose, the air grazing across Ferdinand’s face. In the crook of the doorway just outside of Edelgard’s room, the paltry empty space between them was electrified with hatred.

“Every breath I take, every thought I possess, every palpitation in my very _heart,_ is for the empire Lady Edelgard will create. You will do well to remember that.”

Ferdinand swallowed. “Even keeping a journal full of secrets?” He tilted his head up, closer, his glare tighter than the grip he kept on his lance.

Ferdinand’s insolence would not stand. “Even _kill you_ , if I must,” Hubert hissed. They were so close that Ferdinand could smell hints of Hubert’s morning coffee on his breath. “I’ve four knives that I could reach before you even blinked. I would strike you right here—”

He took his pointer and middle finger and pressed them against Ferdinand’s chest, pressing into the empty space between his ribs. Ferdinand sucked in a breath.

“You would suffer immeasurable pain before bleeding out, your wails would fill the monastery halls for hours, as healers would pour everything they had into a wound that would not heal. And when your corpse finally hit the ground, then, and only then, would I wonder if I could have killed you in a way that brought you more suffering.”

They stood there, neither daring to breathe, amber and olive eyes locked. Hubert’s fingers were still pressed into Ferdinand’s chest.

Then, Hubert pulled away his fingers, and took a step back. He spared Ferdinand no glances as he glided past him and into his room. He shut the door firmly, the echo ringing in Ferdinand’s ears.

Ferdinand stood, stunned, breathless, outside of Edelgard’s door. Unable to think for an embarrassingly long time. 

Finally, when he’d found his wits again, he raked a hand through his hair. Hubert’s threat had been so vivid—had he rehearsed it? Was it an image he played over and over in his mind, obsessing over the sensation of the blade, the scent of Ferdinand’s blood? Or had it been improvised, the idea occasioned to him by their proximity? How had Ferdinand even gotten himself into this situation in the first place?

The lecture notes.

“Wait!” Ferdinand called after him. He cursed himself. How had he gotten so distracted? How could he have gotten so enraptured by Hubert? He rapped the door a few times. “I still need…your notes…”

Hubert swung open the door, eyes alight in fury. The obsidian from his hair seemed to grow, the shadows from the hallway gathering on his face. “Here,” he spat. He threw the brown book at Ferdinand. “You may return it during class.” He slammed the door once more.

Ferdinand stood outside of Hubert’s room for a moment, unease swirling in his stomach. He regarded the brown book in his hands, but could only think of its mysterious cousin. Why was Hubert so protective of his book of schemes? He had never seen so much beneath Hubert’s shell: his unbridled anger, his fears—he _feared_ things?

Ferdinand began walking back to his room, thinking on the secret notebook. What was Hubert keeping that he would beg to the future emperor to keep it? What was he hiding that he didn’t want even Edelgard to know?

Edelgard may have been convinced, but Ferdinand was not. As the future Prime Minister, it was his duty to keep the Empire safe.

He thought back to his, Caspar’s, and Bernadetta’s conversation in the dining hall. Maybe Hubert’s secret was something ridiculous like he truly was half-vampire. Maybe the book was a collection of embarrassing drawings or poems.

Or maybe it was something dangerous.

Ferdinand had to find out what was in there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else feeling hot and bothered by Hubert's death threat? No? Just Ferdie?


	2. The Moment Before Saplings Die or Flourish

After weeks of waiting, Ferdinand finally saw his moment. Hubert was on stable duty, and he’d left his room unlocked, uncharacteristically sloppy of him. The perfect opportunity.

Checking the hallway around him once more, Ferdinand slipped inside Hubert’s room. It was just the same as it was last time: completely normal. Its normalcy unsettled him. Surely Hubert kept poisons or knives somewhere?

 _I’ve four knives that I could reach before you even blinked_. Ferdinand shivered at the memory. Maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t have anything perverse in his room. Maybe Hubert was just skilled at hiding it.

 _Focus,_ he told himself, _find the book first and worry later_. He looked at the desk, but obviously the book had been moved. He opened a few drawers, filled mostly with paper, feather pens, and ink bottles. A perfectly normal desk.

He scanned the cabinet filled with coffee supplies, and wondered how much searching he was prepared to do. He couldn’t just go through someone else’s things. What kind of a noble would he be?

But this was for the empire. To protect it.

Then again, was he prepared to snoop through Hubert’s clothes? Could he stomach such an action, could he live with himself after having stooped so low? Sneaking into Hubert’s room and sifting through his desk was one thing, but how much more of Hubert would he have to discover before he found what he wanted?

Frustrated, Ferdinand sat down on the bed. As he did, he felt an odd weight sink towards him. He reached out and felt it from above the covers; it was hard and rectangular. Eagerly, he ripped open the sheets.

The mysterious book.

Ferdinand tarried a moment, admiring the craftsmanship. It was an alluring cover, to say the least. The kind of tome you would find in ancient libraries chronicling the most important secrets of mankind. Ferdinand almost felt like he could hear the book whispering, feel it buzzing with dark magic. Staring at the cover, it was no wonder Hubert had grown so attached. But Ferdinand knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

He wrapped his finger around the cover and opened to the first page.

> _Today begins the foray into ‘studenthood’. Despite everything, Lady Edelgard seems excited. It puzzles me. We are not here to make friends, we are here to enact plans. Yet she seems insistent on playing our roles with utmost fidelity. I cannot fathom why. Everyone here is keeping secrets, particularly the members of the church. That’s not to exclude the gentry (the son of Duke Aegir is here—spare me now), nor the blatantly suspicious mercenary parading around as a professor. I’ve decided to chronicle our time here, as a safeguard, in hopes that recording it will prove useful. We shall see how this all plays out._

Hubert’s handwriting was quite like him – tidy, straightforward, inelegant. Ferdinand was surprised to see that he was already mentioned, singled out from the others. Ferdinand skipped ahead a few pages, scanning for his name. He didn’t have to skip very far. 

> _Each and every one of my classmates, (aside from Lady Edelgard, of course) are on a spectrum of insufferability. Particularly Ferdinand. He may only be the prime minister’s son, but he is the King of Insufferability. Linhardt skipped class again today, despite Lady Edelgard’s orders and my insistence. Ferdinand would not cease gloating. Obviously he’s a better student than Linhardt, such a feat is not difficult. Even Caspar is a better student. Veritably, Ferdinand’s greatest skill may be his gloating._

Ferdinand furrowed his eyebrows. Thus far, the journal didn’t mention any sort of scheme or plot to hurt anyone. It was far from pleasant, simply reading it stoked a bit of fire in Ferdinand’s blood. But he pressed onwards.

> _I took a stroll around the monastery today, in solitude. It was joyous. At the bridge to the cathedral, I watched the pegasuses flying. Such majestic, gentle creatures. What would it feel like, to fly through the air atop such a noble being? How I yearn to know._
> 
> _Choir practice was being held during my walk. There was one voice I could make out above the others, clear, with the faintest hint of a budding vibrato. It was an enchanting voice, and I rested awhile outside, listening, watching the pegasuses in the sky._
> 
> _Come what may, I do not believe any definition of “peace” would be complete without an enchanting voice and horses flying through the air._

Ferdinand checked the date on the entry. He was at choir practice that day. Could the voice have been…? No, surely not. Dorothea was also there, and her voice was an Imperial treasure. But then, “hint of a budding vibrato” did not fit her at all; her vibrato was flawless.

Ferdinand shook his head. What was all of this trivial detailing? Was this all some kind of a code? Why would Hubert need to encode his own secret book he never let anyone see? Where were the dangerous schemes? He pushed to the next one,

> _Another good day again, a rarity. I shall hold onto these days, immortalize them in ink, so that one day when I can no longer recall what leisure and hope are like, I might read these words and pretend to know once more._
> 
> _I found Claude von Riegan in the great hall, puzzling over a board game, one I’d never seen before. He invited me to play, and we passed the afternoon debating the strategies. He has a brilliant mind for tactics; how I wish he were our ally._
> 
> _Afterwards, I polished some weapons in the armory. Unfortunately, Ferdinand arrived shortly after I did, but to my astonishment, he was civil. He seemed rather interested in the weapon I was polishing, a venin lance. I told him a little about it, and he was shockingly enraptured. After I was finished, he deigned to thank me before leaving. It was the oddest thing. I didn’t realize we shared an interest in weapons. Having something in common unsettles me, but even more unsettling was how pleasant the exchange was._
> 
> _They were serving Herring and Cabbage Stew in the dining hall, a delicacy among sustenance. I read a book while I ate, like some kind of school child. Other students at the far end of my table were doing the same, eating and reading in silence, as if war would never touch them._
> 
> _How silly it is to say it, but…for a moment, I might have wished that it never would._

The final words stuck with Ferdinand, like thorn berries caught in his heart. Hubert thought about things like this? Like children fighting in wars, like eating good meals and playing games, like yearning for peace?

Ferdinand remembered that day in the armory. He remembered thinking the same thing, how odd it was that they had something in common. That they could share something with one another. Ferdinand had thought Hubert would forget that moment, would want to forget it, yet here he was, immortalizing it in his journal.

The realization hit Ferdinand suddenly. “This is not a book of schemes,” he said, swallowing. “It is—”

“A diary, yes.”

Ferdinand bolted upright, sucking in a gasp. “Hubert!”

Hubert’s eyes pierced into him, gleaming with fury. He stood with his arms crossed, one gloved finger tapping, calculated, restrained, on his bicep. The beginnings of a sadistic grin were itching to break out on his face. _Only then would I wonder if I could have killed you in a way that brought you more suffering._

Ferdinand slammed the book shut, abandoning it on the bed while he rushed to stand. “Hubert, I am so sorry, I—”

Hubert held up a hand. Ferdinand clamped his mouth shut. “Just tell me one thing.” Ferdinand swallowed. “How much did you read?”

Ferdinand shook his head. “Only the first few pages, I swear it!”

Hubert’s fiery fury cooled, a fraction. “That’s all?”

Ferdinand nodded furiously. “Yes, I promise! Once I had realized…” Ferdinand sighed. “Oh, Hubert, I am so sorry. Please accept my sincerest apologies. Edelgard was right; I should not have gone snooping through your things. I violated your privacy. It is disgraceful for a noble to act this way.”

Hubert glared at him still, saying nothing. Ferdinand could almost feel Hubert’s fingers digging in his chest.

“I will not tell anyone of what I read, I swear it upon my name,” he offered, crossing a hand over his heart. Hubert still said nothing, still glared at him, and Ferdinand couldn’t even blame him this time.

“I…will take my leave of you now.” Ferdinand kept his eyes to the carpet as he began his way out of the room. He sucked in a breath and tarried for a moment when he reached Hubert’s side.

“Wait,” Hubert ordered quietly.

Ferdinand stopped. Their shoulders were nearly touching, though they faced opposite directions. Ferdinand eyes faced the open door, saw the windows across the hall, while Hubert stared out the window of his room.

“You…truly did not read any further?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“I swear it.”

A small sigh released through Hubert’s nose. His eyes closed for a fraction of a second, the tightness in his face loosening. Relief. Ferdinand wondered if the exhales and inhales through his nose carried Hubert’s emotions, rather than his words.

“You didn’t skim through to the parts with your name? Common diary-snooping practice, and all that?” Hubert asked.

Ferdinand almost laughed. “There would not have been much to skim. I was mentioned so often.”

At that, from this close distance, Ferdinand could see Hubert’s throat seize up again. His throat was long and shapely, pairing well with his sharp cheekbones. “Indeed,” Hubert conceded.

Ferdinand thought back to the words from Hubert’s diary. To the students who looked as if war would never touch them. Hubert’s wish that it never would. The way Ferdinand had waited for Hubert to forget to lock his door, then tore through his personal affects, then read his diary. A feeling oddly like shame or remorse stirred in his stomach.

“Hubert,” he said, still looking out the door. Still feeling the closeness of their shoulders. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Hubert scoffed. “I can think of a few things, but they would be too unsavory for your noble hands.”

Ferdinand sighed, finally turning to face him. “I am being serious,” he said.

Hubert faced him as well. “As am I.”

Ferdinand swallowed. He seemed to do that often around Hubert, he’d realized. Like he was eating an uncomfortable and thick meal that kept lodging itself in his throat. Like he was trying to accept things he didn’t quite want to.

He looked into Hubert’s eyes, the color of the last moments before saplings die. Or maybe it was the opposite? The color before they begin to flourish? Ferdinand couldn’t decide. He still remembered Hubert’s fingers pressed into his chest, but he also remembered the students Hubert wished would never know war. Which was Hubert’s core? Which one was the truth?

Hubert sighed, and only then had Ferdinand realized they’d been staring into each other’s eyes. “How about this,” Hubert began, “if I think of anything you can do, I’ll be certain to let you know.”

In that moment, the light in the room shifted. The moment before saplings flourish.

Ferdinand smiled, and grabbed Hubert’s hands in relief. “Thank you,” he said, squeezing them a little to express his sincerity. If Hubert communicated through breath, Ferdinand communicated through touch.

Hubert stared at their hands, a bit shyly, Ferdinand thought. “The hex I placed on the book was meant to keep out those with ill-intent,” Hubert said suddenly.

Ferdinand nodded. “That must be why I was able to open it. I was only thinking of protecting the Empire.”

Hubert shook his head. “I thought you detested me. Why…why all this?”

Ferdinand laughed. “I do detest you. As much as you detest me. But I must atone for my unscrupulous behavior. Rest assured, our rivalry will not be afflicted by this.”

Hubert barked out a laugh. “So that is how your mind works. Are you certain you don’t wish to use the information you gleaned to gain the upper hand over me?”

“Information I glean through dubious methods shall never benefit me. I will gain the upper hand with my own merits.”

Their eyes caught again, the way eyes do when they’re searching. Ferdinand wondered how much he could see of Hubert’s soul through his eyes, especially if one was all-but hidden behind his hair. Ferdinand wondered how much of himself Hubert could see in his eyes.

Hubert broke their connection suddenly, looking down. “How will you gain the upper hand whilst still holding mine?”

Ferdinand dropped their hands abruptly, as if they had caught on fire. From the heat rising in him, they may as well have. How long had they been holding hands? Throughout that entire exchange? When did Ferdinand stop noticing?

Ferdinand coughed, trying to quell the heat rushing to his face. Hubert’s demeanor and personality were so cold, how could they make him feel so warm? It was aggravating.

He nodded out something like a ‘goodbye’ before rushing out. Needing air, he left the dorm halls and walked down to the garden, feeling the wind and letting it cool his skin.

A Pegasus flier flew overhead, and it stirred the memory of Hubert taking a walk and admiring the flying horses. Of the students Hubert wished would never know war. Of Hubert’s fingers, first pressed into his chest, and then lithe and long in between his.

Ferdinand shook his head. There were too many contradictions to Hubert, too many things he did not understand. Little by little, he would discover which color Hubert’s eyes reflected: new life, or precipice of death.

* * *

Once Ferdinand left, Hubert released an enormous shuddering breath. He closed his door and made absolutely certain to lock it. He sank into his bed, overwhelmed by exhaustion. He picked up his book.

Thanks to the hex he’d placed, he was able to confirm that Ferdinand had been telling the truth. He hadn’t read far enough to find anything incriminating. Hubert’s luck was so miraculous that it made him wonder for a moment if the goddess might have existed. If he hadn’t finished stable duty early, well, he didn’t want to imagine what might have happened.

The hex should have been enough to keep out Ferdinand altogether. Hubert had left the door unlocked, left the book somewhat easy to find, as bait for a trap. He hadn’t considered the possibility of Ferdinand being able to access the bait. Of still getting out of the trap, through no means other than sincerity.

Hubert flipped through his book, seeing the faint smudges of dark magic where Ferdinand’s fingers touched. He was glad Ferdinand only read the first few pages, and not any of the later pages. Or, goddess forbid, the most recent entry, written before Ferdinand had stumbled upon the book.

> _I return once more, defeated, to these pages. I hate Ferdinand. I detest hearing his name, I loathe writing it, and I abhor thinking it. I hate every syllable, I hate the way it feels on my tongue, I hate the way he announces it minimum twice daily, in case anyone had forgotten. As if I could forget._
> 
> _I dreamt of Ferdinand again. How can this be, that my mind abhors him wholly yet my heart and body yearn for him? My heart has never yearned, not once in twenty years. Yet I find my pulse quickening and my palms damp with sweat whenever I am too close to him. His arrogance, his idiocy, his entitled, precocious impertinence should, and do, make me detest him. I feel unadulterated loathing for Ferdinand._
> 
> _What would it feel like to plunge my blade into his flesh? My tongue into his mouth? Which would he hate more? I wish to do whatever makes him wretch in disgust. Anything to shatter his arrogance, his idiocy. The place he occupies in my mind._
> 
> _Ignoring my growing obsession seems only to make it grow more. I dare not name this emotion, this foolishness that Ferdinand brings out in me. His bright hair that catches the afternoon sunlight, his reassuring smile that stalls time. His demeanor, his obsession with justice and equality. How could I have fallen for such paltry charms? What has possessed me to view him with such indulgence and passion?_
> 
> _In the dream, our hands became intertwined as I pushed him against a scarlet oak tree. He hated every second of it, naturally, as it should be. But there was a moment, with our lips entangled and chests pressed together, where I dreamt he enjoyed it. I thought my obsession was a twisted vent for un-processed desperation. I thought I only wanted him because he abhorred me. But if I wanted him, and he wanted me as well?_
> 
> _I hope such a day never comes to pass._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....and then they got married.
> 
> As I just finished their A support, now is obviously the perfect time to write some pre-timeskip shenanigans. While I adore their bickering and hatred, I can't feasibly see a way for them to get together before the time skip. They need to grow as people before they can reach an understanding, as well as grow in maturity before finding mutual ground. But will that stop me from writing them secretly yearning for each other as young adults? Absolutely not.


End file.
